


Salted Caramel Mochas (Or How to Pick Up Draco Malfoy)

by loopyzoop



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Harry, Christmas, Christmas Drarry, Coffee, Drarry, M/M, Muggle AU, Starbucks, Starbucks AU, Winter, barista, coffee shop AU, draco and harry are muggles, everything is christmas and coffee, holiday au, picky customer Draco, they are cute, this is the first time I've written them in muggle form
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 03:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5523965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loopyzoop/pseuds/loopyzoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's good at making coffee, bad at flirting, and thinks Draco is cute. And might actually like him back. Why else would he come into Starbucks on Christmas eve?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salted Caramel Mochas (Or How to Pick Up Draco Malfoy)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TinyStorkIndustries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyStorkIndustries/gifts).



> This was written for my amazing friend Mackenzie (TinyStorkIndustries). I've been wanting to finish my Starbucks barista!Harry AU for a long time, so Merry Christmas everyone! Thank you for reading :) & love you Mackenzie!

Harry had himself the most pretentious job in the universe. He was a pretty normal guy. He went with the flow and wore plain blue jeans with the cuffs rolled up, was often forgetful, and didn't like to talk about deep things. He drove a stick shift car with more rust than paint. He never seemed to have much luck.

 

The shifts at the cramped Starbucks on the main drag in Little Whinging had just sort of landed themselves in his lap, like most things in his life, and of course he hadn't had the heart to say no. By the time he had spent six months working at the coffee shop he had seen a lot, and if he had a dollar for every American with a feather tattoo or infinity symbol necklace pretending to be British he wouldn't have to be grinding coffee beans part time. He could afford rent for his own place and would owe jack shit to his Uncle Vernon, who was another story entirely.

 

His shifts were often late and boring, being that he was one of the few employees that didn't constantly check their watch in the evening knowing they had places to be. He didn't go for pints with other people, had a small group of friends, and didn't have much of an affinity for going into the city to the bars and clubs. Instead he was spending his late adolescent years behind a counter.

 

The only other employee present on a particular Friday evening was Rachelle, who had taken her iPad to the back to sit for a binge watch of Grey's Anatomy for the third time that week. By 9:00 the crowd usually thinned out enough that Harry could do it on his own, and he didn't mind much, really. He liked to keep himself busy and didn't care much for sitting down.

 

So he was scrubbing out one of the milk pitchers over the sink, glancing over his shoulder periodically to the cash register when he saw the first flash of blond hair behind him. He dropped the cloth in the sink and pushed the sleeve on his left arm up after it had slid down again, trying his best to become presentable.

 

Finally, he turned, stared, and felt an immediate knot in his stomach.

 

The guy at the counter was cute. Not your standard tan lines and freckles cute, but there were other things that made Harry pause for an extra beat before finally stammering out a stupid "How can I help you?"

 

"Tall salted caramel mocha," the blond informed him immediately, staring down at the phone in his gloved hand before glancing up again. "Make that venti, rather."

 

Harry pressed the buttons, acutely aware of which ones he hit before he did. Fucking the cash register up now would not be good - whoever this guy was, he was clearly not in the mood for chatter or delay, and he was chewing his bottom lip in utter annoyance. His platinum hair was combed over and held in place by a distinctly smelling gel, not a single strand daring to come out of place with a posture to match. He wore a grey pea coat and darker slacks paired with a silver scarf that glinted in the dim orange light. Nothing about him was wrinkled or disheveled - an obvious contrast to Harry.

  
  
"Is that everything?" Harry said, pretending that his voice totally didn't just crack and his hands weren't sweaty as all hell. What was his problem?

 

The blond sighed, looking up and fixing the dark haired man with a stare that seemed to lighten ever so slightly when he focused on him. His response was cool and restrained. "Yes. Extra whipped cream."

 

Harry gave him a nod, his lips twitching into a sideways grin on their own accord. "As long as you tip well. Can I get your name?" he attempted to joke, hoping that his teasing would prod at the other man's mood. He had never really been one for talking with the customers more than required, but he had a sudden strong desire to see this angry bloke smile. Or laugh. Or do anything but stare at him like he had nine heads. Really, he wasn't picky.

 

The stranger simply pursed his lips. "Draco. D-r-a-c-o."

 

Harry mulled this over to himself for a moment, uncapping his marker and trying to quell his nerves as he scratched it on to the side of the cup. He recited the price and took the man's money before setting the cup on the work station behind him, turning to start on the order. As he was fixing the drink he heard the sound of a few coins dropping into the tip jar by the cash register. He grinned to himself. It was a small victory, but he'd take it.

 

Finally, with the whipped topping and caramel perfectly drizzled on top, he handed it off to Draco - who apparently was quite picky because he eyed it up while looking noticeably suspicious.

 

"Something wrong?" Harry asked more defensively than he had meant to.

  
Draco seemed to snap out of his reverie, bristling. "No. Thank you, good evening," he said, collecting himself and forcing a smile, but something flickered behind it. He almost looked worried. Harry could maybe even go so far as to say nervous.

  
He was out of the shop so fast Harry didn't have time to respond and instead he stood with his mouth open, one hand leaning on the glinting black counter. Something was off about that gentleman, he just couldn't put his finger on what.

  
He decided to ignore his suspicions.

  
-:-

  
It was exactly a week later, four days before Christmas, when Harry saw Draco again. The blond briskly strode in when Harry was chatting with one of the regulars at the shop, Jerry (the rhyming names obviously meant they would hit it off instantly) who owned a car dealership on the other side of town and made the long commute home every day. The drive often required his Starbucks fix along with an update on Harry's current schooling situation, which of course was non-existent. The balding man was halfway through chastising his Uncle Vernon for only paying for his cousin's university when he noticed that there was someone in line behind him and tipped his hat, moving on with his steaming tea.

  
Draco pointed vaguely to the sign.

  
"Venti-"

  
"Caramel salted mocha?" Harry finished hopefully, eyebrows raised with a goofy smile to match.

  
"Did you actually remember that?" Draco's eyes dropped from the menu board and met the dark haired man's gaze. His expression was befuddled and there was almost a hint of wonder in it as he pulled his thin black gloves off and shoved them into each of his pockets.

  
Harry shrugged. "I'm good at my job," he responded, entering the order into the register.

  
Draco shook his head. "Or I've got a stalker," he had pulled out the exact change before Harry could even recite the price, dropping it down in front of him.

  
"Thank you," Harry said, ignoring the irritating flush creeping up his neck and the warmth in his stomach. Something about it made him want to hurl his peanut butter sandwich from lunch... but in a good way. If that was possible. He pushed the feelings away and kept talking while writing Draco's name on his cup. "But I'm honestly employee of the month."

  
Draco arched an eyebrow at this, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I don't believe that."

  
"It's true. I have a certificate to prove it and everything," Harry said.

  
"Rubbish. They don't give out certificates for that."

  
Harry paused and turned to the drink machine with a shrug. "Maybe not. But the validity still stands, I am the best employee."

  
Draco snorted at this, and somehow it felt like another point for Harry in whatever odd sort of game he was playing.

  
"An extra pump of caramel and maybe I'll believe you," the blond offered, and although Harry had his back turned to the cash he still rolled his eyes.

  
When Draco eventually took his mocha, adjusting his collar and saying a quick "Good day," Harry watched him carefully. He stared at the other man's retreating back and secretly hoped that he would notice the extra whipped cream, too.

  
-:-  
With two days to go until Christmas, Harry was pulling doubles to make sure he could fill his bank account. He needed more money than he had been prepared to spend on post to get packages to friends in America, who had pulled out all the stops last year and he knew he owed it to, but there just were insufficient funds. And hell would have to freeze over before he would ask his Uncle or Aunt or even worse, Dudley, for cash.

  
He was half-heartedly wiping the tables and ignoring the fact that he felt like he might start hallucinating from exhaustion, when the familiar swish of the door came from behind him. Blinking back the morning grogginess, Harry pushed his bed head aside to see the tall figure of a certain blond male joining the small queue.  
"Draco," Harry greeted with a grin, cursing the rough cracking sounds that came with his barely used voice.

  
Draco turned and blinked, his eyebrows knit in confusion. "You're here early," he noted in a voice that sounded equal parts confused and happy.

  
"Shifts do that sometimes. Change. I could say the same about you," Harry gestured to him with the rag in his hand.

  
Draco peered at Emily, the petite blond currently behind the cash register taking the order of a couple of younger boys. His eyes flicked between her and Harry, calculating, while he fixed his pea coat and ran a hand over his smooth hair.

  
"She won't remember my order," he said finally.

  
Harry scrunched his nose up and shrugged. "Nah, Emily? She's great, I promise you she'll get it right."

  
The blond shook his head. "How can I trust you as a reliable source, Harry?" Draco chose to point out, eyes flickering to Harry's name tag and almost smiling again.

  
Their debate was stupid, Harry knew, but he couldn't help but want to keep the conversation going. "I've worked with her for months. She's brilliant, and you can quote me on that. I'm sorry that I'm not always in the same place every day, I'll try harder next time."

  
Draco rolled his eyes. "Are you always this irritating?" he huffed, turning back to the menus as he shuffled on towards the front.

  
"I try to be."

  
"Well... annoying or not, you should probably go fix me my drink."

  
Harry frowned. "I already told you, Emily had no problem taking orders. I promise you it'll be right the first time," he paused a put an earnest hand over his heart. "Scout's honor."

  
Draco sighed as if he were talking to a loaf of bread. "I have no doubts that she'll do it correctly," he said. "But she doesn't give me extra whipped cream."

  
-:-

Christmas eve for everyone else in Little Whinging meant last minute shopping, family gatherings around the dinner table, and ice skating on the community rink. For Harry it meant 2 cups of black coffee in one hour and listening to the sound of muffled Christmas carols crackling through the speakers in each corner of the room. The last customer was almost fifteen minutes before and the only other employee with him - Garrett - had fallen asleep in the back room. The usual rush of Christmas Eve had faded, and despite their arguments the shop was staying open until its regular closing time. Both of them hadn't anywhere to be for Christmas anyways, Harry supposed, and they had volunteered to work for the holidays. That was about all he and Garrett had in common. It was still a ways from nine and Harry was stuck between being ready to close up and not wanting to listen to his Aunt Petunia bitching about the state of the kitchen while Dudley crammed as many Christmas cookies as possible into his mouth at home. While home for the holidays, he was fairly sure his cousin had managed to go up an entire pant size. Forget freshman fifteen; Dudley was working on his freshman fifty.

  
The door flew open and a gust of wet snow and icy air came in along with a customer, breaking Harry from his dread. He blinked away his daze and glanced up, his emerald green eyes immediately connecting with grey.

  
Draco shook, snow falling from his hair and shoulders. "Hello." He looked around like he had just come through a wormhole, his expression bewildered as if he had never intended to end up in the Starbucks next to the grocery store in Little Whinging.

  
"You're out late," Harry commented, standing himself up from his leaning position against the counter. "No wild Christmas eve celebrations?"

  
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Not for me."

  
"So you thought you'd come out in this storm just for a cup of Starbucks?"

  
"Not entirely just a cup of Starbucks." Draco said.

  
Harry swallowed hard at this, his Adam's apple bobbing and the same familiar flush creeping up the back of his neck. He opened to mouth to talk but found he was interrupted again.

  
"A salted caramel mocha with extra caramel and extra whipped cream." Draco waved his hand, ending whatever had just happened. He gave him a smug smile, dropping the exact change on the counter once again. Even with his normally pale skin blushed bright red, he looked well composed.

  
"Hey. You earn your extra toppings around here," Harry warned warmly, picking out the largest sized cup subconsciously. "You don't just get them all willy nilly. I expect a tip."

  
Draco sighed. "I thought that this," he said, gesturing to his face and frowning. "Would have been enough." He sighed and put the coins into the jar anyways. "But alright."

  
Harry tried to swallow again. Why did it seem his mouth always dried up when they were talking? He mulled this point over when he began concocting the mocha, trying not to physically shake his head. This is what it felt like to have a real crush on someone, wasn't it? He was chewing his lip so badly he thought it might split, his heart was thudding against his rib cage, and he kept coming dangerously close to dropping the silver pitcher of milk on the floor.

  
So this guy was cute... and possibly flirting with him. If Harry could figure out what flirting even was. And that meant he should probably flirt back at some point... if he could also figure out the best way to go about doing that. He didn't know much about the mystery blond, but something made Harry's stomach twist and do flips, and that had to count for something. The prat always wore stupid gloves and fancy coats and silly looking hats, but something about him was so... cool. There weren't any words that could quite describe him the right way, and maybe that was how it was supposed to be. Regardless, Harry found himself grinning ear to ear and swirling the whipped cream on his drink - twice.

  
When he spun back he found that there was no one standing by the register, and instead his rather important customer had wandered over to the front window where sparkling tinsel was draped in the window, bobbles dangling from it.

  
Draco reached out and spun one silver bulb, concentrating hard. Harry continued to concentrate only on him.

  
Harry glanced between the steaming mocha and Draco, and something inside of him welled up and spilled over, flooding his chest with simultaneous nerves and hope. Either way, Harry realized a couple of things in that moment, and the little voice in his head that usually warned him against doing dangerous or potentially harmful things (and usually went ignored), said fuck it. It was Christmas Eve, he never did anything for himself, and there were points in time that were meant to be completely terrifying.

  
He lifted and peered at the cup in his hand. Where he had just wrote Draco's name moments before Harry uncapped his marker and wrote a total of ten easy digits beneath his previous markings, adding a noticeably messy '-Harry' with a tiny colored in heart.

  
He was giving the stupid git his phone number, and he was happy about it.

  
As if given a cue, Draco turned with his hands clasped together behind his back and sauntered back the counter, flashing Harry an extremely brief but noticeable smile before accepting his steaming drink. He looked unusually grateful as he took his first sip, the whipped cream melting in his mouth.

  
Clearly he hadn't seen his cup yet, but Harry went on cleaning up. He gave a cautious glance towards the sink, predicting that it was very possible he would be throwing up. He did, after all, just make his most ballsy move in weeks (and that was saying something).

  
Eventually the blond, without a good-bye as he often did, made his way to the doorway and pushed out into the street where the snow had began to pile up.

  
A minute passed.

  
Then two.

  
Three.

  
Harry began to wonder if when he locked up he'd find the cup with his handwriting laying haphazardly in the trash without so much as a simple rejection. Maybe he'd even get a scalding coffee to the face for even insinuating that such a bloke would want to call, let alone go on a date with him. Maybe Draco hadn't read it yet. In any case, Harry could barely focus as he started to power things down, going through the regular routine of checking, sweeping, and scrubbing.

  
He nudged Garrett awake to do the washrooms a while ago and the other boy was long since gone, but he decide to check them anyways - he'd never hear the end of it if he let someone come in tomorrow morning to a plugged toilet or a messy sink.

  
After approving the state of most of the cafe, Harry headed towards the front doors to lock them up and go out the to the back parking lot where his beat up station wagon sat, probably too frozen to start with his luck. He had his hand on the lock when he looked straight up and saw a pointy blond staring down at him from the other side of the window. This, of course, caused him to crack a smile while simultaneously fighting the urge to vomit... or turn the lights out and bolt.

  
Draco lifted up his Christmas themed cup, pointing to it and quirking an eyebrow. The winter wind whipped at his hair as he stood on the sidewalk, his profile standing out against the night.

  
Harry simply stared, finally shaken from his reverie by an equal parts quizzical and irritated look from the blond. He finally jumped forward, quickly unlocking the front door and stepping back as Draco shook the melting clumps of snow from his hair and coat.

  
"So," he stated. "A cup?"

  
"I'm sorry?" Harry replied stupidly.

  
"You've decided to ask me out through a cup," Draco held the drink back up for re-examination. "Creative. Not exactly employee of the month material, though..."

  
There was a pregnant pause before the other man spoke again. "Is that a yes?"

  
Draco pretended to think this through thoroughly as his eyes ran over the hastily written numbers, a smile twitching at the edge of his mouth. He always tried to keep that quirk at bay, but when he was truly amused the left corner was an instant tell, Harry noted.

  
"I suppose it is," Draco said, "Although you'll have to figure out something for us to do."

  
Harry felt suddenly parched and he licked his lips, nodding a little too enthusiastically. "Yeah, brilliant," he grinned, aware that he was incapable of containing his excitement. "I can do that."

  
Draco smiled again, setting his mocha down on the nearest table. "You know..." he began. "You could take me out for coffee."

  
Harry shook his head and snorted. "I was thinking more along the lines of dinner. Finish your coffee and I'll take you out. I know a great Chinese place," Harry gestured towards the back door with his keys, coat draped over his arm.

  
"You mean the only Chinese place open on Christmas eve?" Draco smirked.

  
"Yeah, but it's still good," Harry amended, leading the blond back to his car and switching lights off as he went.

  
The pair dashed through the falling snow to his beat up vehicle, Draco chugging his coffee and tossing it away. As he unlocked the doors and they ducked inside, Harry became suddenly self conscious of the ratty seats and dusty rubber mats.

  
"Sorry about the mess," he apologized with a toss of old fast food wrappers to the backseat. "I wasn't expecting... yeah. Sorry."

  
Draco pulled off his gloves and wadded them in his lap. His normally sharp smirk was replaced by something softer, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "No worries," he said with a small shrug. "This isn't exactly what I was expecting to be doing this evening either."

  
"Did you have plans?" Harry asked hurriedly, suddenly afraid he had been infringing.

  
Draco looked incredulous. "I was hanging out in an empty Starbucks, on Christmas eve, waiting for the barista to realize I was blatantly trying to chat him up. I certainly do not have other plans."

  
Harry leaned back, the tenseness in his muscles melting away as he stuck the key in the ignition. The blond's presence was becoming increasingly more obvious in the silence that followed. His breathing, the vague smell of his cologne, his piercing eyes surprisingly settled on Harry's mouth all seemed deafening. Harry cleared his tightening throat, wondering briefly about how irritating it would be to make out with the stick shift between them, which led to thinking about the cluttered back seat and unfortunate lack of space.

 

"I see. I, uh.. how long exactly were you trying to chat me up?"

  
"Since I walked in, you idiot."

  
"...Oh." The orange glow of the streetlight cast shadows when Harry finally turned, their eyes locking. "Does this mean I can kiss you now?"

  
The words hung in the air for half a second before their mouths were crashing in on each other, eyes fluttering closed and soft noises of surprise filling the enclosed space. Harry's hands scrabbled for purchase awkwardly on Draco's shoulders, the wool of his coat scratching at his fingertips. They stayed like that for what seemed like seconds but what had probably melted into minutes before Harry finally shifted, pulling his legs up on the seat and attempting to move closer. The center console kept him at a safe distance, and he grunted discontentedly.

  
The two pulled apart, breathing hard. "C'mon," Harry whispered, crawling across into the back and tugging on Draco's hand as he went.

  
Draco looked worried for a moment, considering his options and finally following suit. When he settled on to the untidy bench seat Harry began shoving his coat off his shoulders, hands roaming beneath despite the chilly air.

  
Their lips met again, followed by their tongues, followed by Draco gripping either side of Harry's face and snickering against his mouth.

  
"What?" Harry mumbled, his voice rough and his expression warm as he leaned back, blinking. "Hm?"

  
"I was just thinking..." Draco started, punctuating his sentence with a kiss. "I should probably get three pumps of caramel now."


End file.
